Page 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Violet

“You’re just going to leave me here?” I asked, my voice high and squeaky, dangerously close to hysteria.

In my defense, I’d been introduced to no fewer than twenty new—and disturbing—insects since we’d both woken up in that tight little hammock.

I mean, I’d been pretty miserable at first—still overheated from another ill-advised little tryst with Wick.

But he’d been right. Once I stilled for long enough, I was pretty comfortable. Even though his body was a furnace.

I was so exhausted from the hike that I wasn’t awake long enough to do any actual complaining.

I woke up a lot more sprawled over him than I’d anticipated.

At some point, his legs had spread, and my body had moved between. To save space, my own legs had moved inward and butterflied open on the tops of his thighs. So if he looked down, he’d be staring down the barrel of my crotch.

Luckily, I’d woken up first, giving me a chance to slowly close my thighs as I watched him for any sign of movement.

He was asleep with his forearm casually covering his eyes. And while I sympathized with the pins and needles he’d be dealing with later, I was glad for the opportunity to take him in without him witnessing it.

I probably had no reason to feel shy about him knowing I was looking. I mean, I’d let him finger me twice. Well, did the last one count as actual fingering? Fingering-lite, maybe.

But as soon as he stopped touching me, I was quick to remind myself of all the reasons why I couldn’t let him do it again. Let alone let things progress.

Still, damn. In the early morning light, laying there in nothing but boxer briefs, he was looking good.

Speaking of those boxer briefs… Wick was having a little situation .

Actually, not a little one at all.

I mean, it was one thing to feel him pressed against me. It was a complete other to see with my own eyes.

I had this almost overwhelming urge to reach out, to close my hand around his length, to start stroking him.

Honestly, the urge was so strong that I might have done it.

If some winged demon hadn’t chosen right that moment to drop down on the bug netting right above my head.

I’m not proud of the sound that escaped me. Nor the way I started to thrash hard enough to make the hammock threaten to flip over.

“The fuck…” Wick woke up with a start, arms flying out to brace himself as the hammock swung.

“Get it off ,” I squealed, pointing above my head.

“Shoulda known it was a bug,” Wick said, sounding a mix of frustrated and amused. “Stop rocking us and I can get it,” he demanded, trying to fold up to sit.

It was right that second that a second bug came fluttering down.

“Oh, God. They’re invading,” I cried, pressing my hands to my face. “Drain him first.”

Wick chuckled and the hammock rocked around as he finally sat up to flick the bugs off the netting.

“You can’t tell me that wasn’t a coordinated effort. They have structured war plans. And we have no defense against them.”

Wick fell back against the hammock, laughing hard.

“Except bug netting, bug spray, and shoes to squish them with.”

“There are two of us. There are thousands of them.”

“Millions, more like.”

A pained animal sound escaped me at that.

“I think you need some food,” Wick said, reaching to unzip the hammock. “How about you hang here while I go see if I can find some fruit to go along with the protein bars?”

“Leave me here alone? With a bug army? I think not,” I said, following him out of the hammock, almost sticking my feet in my shoes before I thought better of it. “Can you check my shoes?”

Wick’s lips were curved up as he bent forward to grab them and knock them together upside down.

“You know, I gotta admit. There’s something charming about a badass recovery agent who can keep a cool head during a shootout… but is this afraid of bugs.”

“Guns can just shoot me. Not walk all over me with their thousands of legs,” I said, accepting my shoes as a shiver racked my system. “God, what I wouldn’t do for a coffee right now,” I said when Wick handed me water before he started to pull down the hammock and roll it back into his bag. “Aren’t you dying for coffee?”

“I don’t really drink coffee.”

“What do you mean you don’t drink coffee? How do you manage not to be on the six o’clock news for beating someone who flipped you off in traffic during rush hour without coffee?”

“Used to practically live off the stuff,” he told me, pulling a pair of shorts up, then slipping into his own shoes. Without a bug inspection. Like a complete psychopath. “But then I started doing a lot of traveling. And there were so many places where getting a caffeine fix wasn’t possible. I got sick of the withdrawal headaches when that happened, so I just stopped drinking it. For the most part.”

“I’m a much more pleasant person with coffee,” I told him.

“Eh, you’re pretty good without it,” he said, reaching into his bag for, I imagined, a shirt.

And it was right then we both heard them.

Voices.

Male voices.

We each threw our backpacks on, turned, and ran.

There were many things to worry about then: men at our heels, bullet wounds with no medical attention nearby.

Killer bugs .

But all I could seem to focus on as we ran was the fact that I hadn’t gotten a chance to get dressed. Meaning my boobs were… boobing.

And let’s just say, I was not anatomically built to run without a bra on.

I wanted to keep my arms long and loose, knowing it would help keep my lungs open. But it wasn’t long before I had to cross my arms over my chest, pushing my boobs down as we tore through the jungle.

“What’s—” Wick started to ask a while later as I fell further and further behind, watching my steps more carefully since my arms were likely too busy to brace against a fall. “Oh,” he said, letting out a bark of a laugh as he looked at me.

“Some of us need support to run for our lives,” I informed him, gasping for breath.

“I think we covered a good amount of distance,” he said. Lifting an arm, he gestured to a particularly large tree. “Go get yourself together,” he suggested. “Unless you want some help.”

The way my sex tightened said that yes, I absolutely did want help. But when assassins were literally just behind you, you couldn’t stop to get felt up behind a tree. Hell, it was probably reckless to stop to put on a bra. And pee. But some things couldn’t be helped.

When I came back, Wick wasn’t where I’d left him either.

He appeared a moment later through some thick greenery, this time with his shirt on, and carrying two protein bars.

“We’ve gotta fuel up if we are going to be able to keep going,” he explained, passing me a bar. “But let’s walk and eat.”

That was what we did. And even if the bra I chose chafed and the underwire felt like it was about to poke out of the material, it was definitely better than all that bouncing around I’d been doing.

“Do you think it was the same guys?” I asked, wondering if we’d just missed a hope of rescue.

“They were speaking English,” he said. “Well, two of them were. The other was giving out directions in Spanish. Probably a guide. They’d be stupid to come in here, even on a contract kill, without one.”

“You think they got a local to agree to go on a kill job with them?” I asked.

“Just like anywhere else in the world, money talks. I’m sure if the offer was good enough, someone would put their morals aside for the paycheck.”

“True. Am I wrong, or did we, uh, run deeper into the rainforest by accident?”

Wick winced at that, giving me all the answer I needed.

“The only other option was to get closer to the guys. I think if, once we’re done eating, we keep a jogging pace for an hour or so this way,” he said, waving ahead of us, “we should be far enough ahead of them to cut back and head toward the road again.”

Jogging.

Oh, joy.

But I couldn’t exactly complain if it was literally to save our lives. After this was over, I earned the right to skip out on cardio days for a month. At least.

“You set the pace,” Wick said when we’d both finished chewing and gave our bodies a couple of minutes to digest.

So I did, knowing full well that I was barely taxing Wick, but not wanting to push myself too hard and wind up needing a break sooner than either of us wanted.

“God, it’s been like two hours, right?” I asked, stopping and bending forward, arms on thighs, trying to catch my breath. My legs and face and lungs all felt like they were on fire.

“More like forty-five minutes,” Wick said, a little breathless himself. Which was more comforting than it should have been. “But we kept a good pace.”

Something caught his eye beyond me, and I watched as he walked over toward a small tree, reached up, and pulled down something green and oblong.

“What is it?”

“Guava.”

“I’ve never had it. What does it taste like?”

“Um, I guess like a blend of strawberry and pear. It’s mostly sweet with just a hint of tartness. You might not have had the fruit, but you’ve probably had it in a smoothie or health drink… no?”

“People don’t generally mention me and ‘health drinks’ in the same sentence. I’m more of a ‘this probably has a lot of toxic chemicals in it, but that’s also what makes it taste good’ kind of person.”

Wick pulled a knife out of his bag, then sliced the fruit in half. “Try it. I think you’ll like it.”

I was thirsty enough that I didn’t care what it tasted like if it contained some fluid content.

I wasn’t prepared to decide right on the spot that it was my new favorite fruit of all time.

“Good?” Wick asked, making me realize I’d moaned out loud.

“Oh, my God. These are better than the oranges on your island. And I didn’t think that was possible. How many are on that tree? Can I pack my bag with them?”

“There’s plenty. Eat a few. We’ll take a few with us. But we don’t want to get weighed down if we need to run again.”

“Fiiiiine,” I grumbled.

“There should be plenty more as we keep going. Plus some more bananas. We definitely won’t starve.”

“But we’re getting out of here today, right? Right?” I pressed when he didn’t meet my gaze.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s really hard to stay the course in here.”

“You have your compass, though.”

“I do. But I have no idea if this particular area of the rainforest is deeper than where we came in. It’s not like the whole thing has a straight line border.”

Right.

That made sense.

“But not more than another day, right?” At his pause, a whimper escaped me. “You’re not serious.”

“I just don’t want to promise you something I have no idea about. A person could get lost in the rainforest for weeks. Longer, even. That’s why you bring a guide.”

The word weeks swirled around my brain as we ate and then started to walk once again.

“What is it?” Wick asked, studying my profile as we walked in a steady ‘power walk’ instead of a jog.

“Weeks. Stuck here for weeks. We will run out of protein bars.”

“There is plenty of food here. We won’t starve.”

“Plenty of what? Guava and bananas?”

“Yeah. There should be Brazil nuts and some other fruits, possibly, too. And various protein sources.”

“If you suggest we are going to be eating bugs, I swear to God…”

“I mean, they are a great—and abundant—protein source.”

“I’d rather suffocate and eat you,” I said, getting another laugh out of him.

“Good to know, duchess. But I wasn’t thinking bugs anyway. There are tons of smaller streams and rivers that lead into the Amazon River. Lots of fish in them.”

“You know how to fish?”

“Yep. Do you eat fish?”

“I mean, it would never be my first choice, but yeah. What kind of fish?”

“Pacu, peacock bass, armored catfish, and piranha are all—”

“Wait, you can eat piranha? The things that can eat us?”

“I mean, the whole piranha eating people thing is grossly exaggerated in film. But, yeah, piranha are a pretty common food source around here. They’re used in a lot of different soups and stews.”

“We would cook them, right? Before eating them?”

“Not a sushi fan, I take it.”

“I basically like all of my food cooked, if possible. Preferably cooked in some nice butter or oil and lots of spices. Served over rice. Or pasta. Or with some crunchy chips for dipping…”

“Maybe we should stop talking about food,” Wick suggested, giving me a soft smile.

“Probably smart. You owe me an all-you-can-eat buffet after this.”

“You got—” he started to say when, suddenly, we heard raised male voices. Just talking at first.

But then, “There!”

“Fuck,” Wick said, grabbing my hand.

And then we were off, running as fast as our legs could carry us, Wick half-dragging me when I lagged behind on my shorter ones.

This time, though, we didn’t have the advantage of not being spotted by them. They were hot on our heels and heavily armed.

To try to get me to move faster, Wick took my backpack, but even relieved of its weight, I was struggling to keep up.

I heard the water before we broke through a clearing to reveal a cliff with a river running below it.

Shit.

Wick grabbed my hand harder, pulling me down the side of the cliff, clearly seeing something that I didn’t. Not that I was seeing much, mind you, with sweat pouring into my eyes.

It wasn’t until we were right up on it that I realized what he was pulling me toward.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said, seeing the rickety old rope bridge hanging loosely across the cavern.

“We have to get across. And maybe cut it,” Wick said, too matter-of-fact and practical to care about my fears.

“Wick, it’s ancient,” I objected between gasping breaths.

“It’s the only way to get ahead of them. I’ll go first. So you know it’s safe,” he said.

Before I could even take a breath, he was taking off across the sporadic wooden planks.

“Oh, God,” I whimpered when I watched the whole goddamn bridge start to swing as he ran.

My stomach rolled.

But there was no going back now.

Not even if my whole body felt like it was shaking as I moved to the edge of the cliff to press a foot onto the ridge.

“Violet!” Wick yelled, making my head shoot up to see him standing on the other side, safely on solid ground.

It took a split second to realize it was the first time he’d said my name.

And that he’d said it in a full-on panic.

I didn’t bother to turn around.

I knew what he was saying.

They were right behind me.

Grabbing the rope sides, I rushed out onto the bridge.

Fine.

‘Rushed’ was probably pushing it.

But I wasn’t frozen, shaking, and crying, so that was a win in my book.

I felt it the second one of the men stepped onto the bridge.

The whole thing swayed hard enough to make me worry it might just flip.

My hands burned from gripping the rope as I kept moving across, trying to make sure each foot fell on a plank, not the open spaces between.

The man kept coming, the bridge objecting to the weight.

I heard a crack and felt my foot falling.

My stomach sloshed and my heart took up vacation in my throat as my hands gripped the rope harder, pulling myself back up to my feet.

My pulse was a thunderous beat in my ears, drowning out the rush of the river beneath me, the encouragement of Wick, the shouts of our pursuers, even the pop-pop-pop of sporadic gunfire as the assassins took aim at Wick from the other side of the cliff.

But I did hear one thing, probably the quietest sound of all.

The snap of the rope somewhere behind me.

“Vi!” Wick screamed as the bridge gave way from the other side of the cavern, making it drop and swing.

I didn’t even think a cry escaped me as all my focus went to gripping my arms and legs around the remaining bridge.

I wrapped my arms around the ropes, the burn instantaneous and unavoidable as I shoved my legs through the gaps in planks, then tightened them around them.

We seemed to swing forever, my stomach dropping over and over as the adrenaline surged through me.

But I guess I was thankful for the swing. Because I knew what was on the other side of it. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The rope twisted around on itself twice, and I tucked my head to my chest and gripped the broken bridge harder just in time for impact.

The side of the jagged cliff caught me in the back, knocking all the wind out of me as pain shot up my spine and across my shoulders.

Tears pricked my eyes as I tried to force myself to focus, to breathe, to not panic and lose my hold.

The worst part was over.

As long as I didn’t, you know, fall to my death.

Somewhere above me, there were the rapid-fire shots of bullets, and my heart ached thinking of Wick up there.

But it wasn’t long before my own survival became a question mark again.

When I felt a hand close around my ankle.

My gaze shot down, and for a dizzying second, all I saw was the drop still below us, the river rushing along with God-knew what creatures inside it, waiting to rip me limb from limb.

At first, I thought the guy—tall and fit in a wiry way with black eyes and a shaved head—was just trying to find something to hold onto.

He was bigger, heavier. It was harder to keep his grip.

But then I felt him pulling, fingers bruising, trying to, what, pull me down? Drop me off?

“Fuck off,” I snarled, trying to yank my leg away.

“Get out of my way,” he shot back, glancing up.

My own gaze lifted, seeing the climb ahead of me, the promise of safety at the top.

I was a bounty hunter.

I roughed people up on occasion, sure. I even practiced martial arts for fun, kicking the shit out of men twice my size.

I wasn’t a killer.

But, I realized right at that moment, what I was… was a survivor.

And if only one of us was going to climb the rest of the way up this broken bridge, it was going to be me. Because there was nothing about this man and his willingness to kill for money that suggested he would get up there, then pull me to safety too.

He’d probably cut the rope.

Then kill Wick.

Steeling my soul and stomach for what I needed to do, I gripped harder with my shaking arms, then pulled one of my legs free of the bridge.

And started to kick.

And kick.

And kick.

“Fuck this,” the guy grumbled, trying to hold himself up with his legs and one arm as his other hand went down.

I saw the glint of metal behind his back, the strap holding the gun to his body.

I pulled my leg back up as panic shot through me.

I had one shot at this.

Did I kick his face for the most damage?

His midsection for the best chance at knocking him off balance?

Sucking in a deep breath, I slammed my leg down with every bit of hopeless fear within me.

Right into his hand.

I watched in horror as his hand opened.

As the rope slipped.

Then, in slow motion, as his whole body arched back and fell.

His scream filled my ears as I squeezed my eyes shut.

There was no thud, not from so far up.

Just an eerie, telling silence.

My whole body was shaking as I opened my eyes again, looking up toward safety.

I had to go.

Before I lost more strength trying to hold on.

Everything in me screamed to stay, to wait. But wait for what? To be rescued? Who was coming for me? Wick was silent.

Injured?

Dead?

Off running to save his own life?

It didn’t matter.

All that mattered was I was on my own. I had to get myself up.

As I reached one arm carefully up, then the other, I decided that as soon as I got back to Navesink Bank, I owed my cousin Chris an apology for each time I grumbled about the massive wood and rope obstacle course she insisted we train on at least every other month.

She was right.

You never knew when your upper body strength might just save your whole damn life.

My legs weren’t entirely useless. Each time my arms went up another foot or so, they each went to a new rung and pushed. But it was almost a completely upper body workout the whole way up.

And the further I went, the more my body shook at the prospect of a fall.

The cliff scraped against my back as I went, and little trickles of blood mingled with the sweat pouring down my spine.

“Okay. Okay. You’re okay.”

I was categorically not okay.

I was shaking so hard that the whole bridge was vibrating too. And my sweaty palms were making me scared to reach any higher. But the fatigue in my arms was assuring me that if I didn’t get to the top soon, I was going to fall.

So I thought happy thoughts.

A cold shower.

Air conditioning.

A huge coffee.

Tacos.

A soft bed.

Tangled in the sheets with Wick.

Hey, if these were my last living thoughts, I was going to let the fantasies fly.

And, hey, I went up one more foot, then another. Then, finally, my back met nothing but open air.

I was at the top.

“Okay. Alright. Almost done,” I coaxed myself on as I needed to turn myself around to the front of the rope, so I could crawl up onto the ground.

I collapsed down onto my knees, gasping for air over and over. But with panic and strain racking my system, it seemed that no matter how much I tried to catch a breath, the more it eluded me.

I was still there on my knees when I heard it.

Him.

I heard him.

“Violet! Violet! ”

I didn’t stop to think.

I rushed to my feet and ran toward the sound of his voice.

“Violet!”

I rounded a tree, and then there he was. Running, bloody, frantically looking for me.

I flew at him, knocking him back a step. Then to my horror, a loud sob escaped me.